The First Time
by blacktop
Summary: Reese and Carter give in to their impulses and find that reality is just as good as imagination. Enjoy and review.


**The First Time**

The first time was not supposed to be like this.

Carter wasn't much of a romantic, never was impressed by the usual things like flowers, candy, or wine.

But in her imagination, the first time she had sex with Reese was going to be something close to that famous bed of roses in the sloppy addictive novels she read on airplanes. She saw in her mind's eye the way they would lay next to each other for hours, exploring and stroking and pleasing each other until they just couldn't wait any longer. The kissing would take a long time and the embrace would be sweet, slow, and filled with sighs.

But here they were, in the back seat of her blue sedan.

He had arrived in his usual maddening fashion just as she was preparing to pull out of the precinct parking lot at the end of a long day of paperwork. He slipped into the seat beside her without warning, just appeared like that as if confident she would go along with whatever dangerous scheme he had in mind this time.

Instead of waiting to hear what he wanted, Carter continued backing her car out of the assigned space and drove off into the dusk. He'd got himself into this, now he could deal with it.

She drove for twenty minutes while Reese chattered about the case they had just solved. He was crowing a bit, she felt. As if it wasn't her calling in back up which had ultimately saved their asses? In her view, they were outgunned, and it was only because they had the drop on the mobsters that they were able to put down five of them before anyone got off a single round in response. The arrival of the cavalry came at just the right moment. Reese had slipped off into the shadows while she and her colleagues rounded up the remnants of the busted smuggling ring.

Now here he was, recounting the events as if his skill and bravery alone had saved the day.

Carter pulled the car into a vacant lot behind a warehouse and shifted to face Reese. Turning her shoulders in the seat, she challenged him:

"So it was all about you yesterday, huh?"

"No, you brought most of the guns, so it was about you too." Generous of him to admit that.

"You almost got us killed, John."

"_Almost_ being the operative word, don't you think?"

"I should turn you in, you know."

"Yes, you should. But you won't. You like shooting up the bad guys, saving the good guys, and telling yourself at the end of each day that you did something meaningful. "

He paused to look her directly in the eye.

"You are in it for the thrill, Detective. Same as me."

There was only one way to wipe that blasted smirk off his face.

She raised her right hand, grasped him firmly by the ear and pulled him in for a smart kiss on the lips.

Reese sputtered and pulled back from her with eyes round in shock. But his expression shifted quickly to one of animated resolve. Kissing became his primary mission and he pursued it with relentless attention to detail.

She had expected him to delve into her mouth with his usual aggressive determination, but instead she was excited to find that he wanted her to penetrate him, to take him with her tongue and teeth and lips.

She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over for a closer encounter but the shift stick and cup holder got in the way. Worse than a damned chastity belt.

One of them said "back seat" and they scrambled to accomplish the transfer.

She felt hot and cold in equal measures as she undid her belt, toed off her pumps, and lowered her slacks past her ankles. She paused with her thumbs in the band of her black lace panties. This was wrong, she knew, but her desire was so compelling, so obvious, and so certain she didn't care. They would sort it out later. Off came the panties.

Reese settled himself upright on the seat having discarded his trousers and dark underwear in the process. The watery moonlight bathed his shoulders and face in an eerie glow that lent glamor to his features. Carter saw him almost every day, but he looked extraordinarily beautiful now: the high contrast of black hair and marble skin, the threads of steel at the temples, the sculpted cheekbones and jaw combined to make her feel she was the heroine in an old-fashioned movie.

Even the crooked things enchanted her now. From her position over him, she could see the haphazard way his sleek hair was parted and how his nose turned slightly but distinctly to the left. These flaws were his peculiar perfection. And though her femininity took a battering each day on the job, every denial, every mindless insult would all be erased if she could just hold this man in her arms for an hour now.

She met his eyes and watched as the pupils dilated with desire to almost eclipse their silvery sheen. He licked his lips, which were rosy and swollen from the hard way she had kissed him. He gasped when she straddled him, raking her fingers under his open shirt and over the fabric that covered his flexing biceps. His chest felt hard and smooth to her touch and she couldn't tell if the burning sensation there arose from her fingers or his skin. She tried to match her breathing to his steady heartbeat but she seemed to be going so fast and so infinitely slowly all at once that the simple task overcame her.

He studied her shirt for a long moment as if perplexed and then carefully undid the buttons beginning at her throat. She expected him to reach around her to unfasten her bra, but instead he paused, and with trembling fingers lifted one breast gently from its lacy enclosure. Again he stared intently, watching as her nipple tightened and darkened under his gaze.

He pressed his face against her breast. She felt the scratch and pull of his stubbled cheek against her tender skin as he turned his head. A rough wave of desire hit her. She wanted this strange, fierce man more than she had wanted anyone or anything in a long time.

Her breast felt heavy and warm as she shifted slightly to bring it in line with his mouth. She cupped her hand along his jaw to feel its rhythmic action as he suckled at her nipple. His hands pressed into her back, clasping and releasing in time with the needy pace of his mouth.

She wanted to float like this forever, accepting and giving like this. But the urgent tide rolling low in her belly pressed her forward. His straining erection felt solid and eager bobbing against her stomach. She reached for him, so smooth in her grasp, and guided him toward her, and she rose to take him inside. The hot push and slide of him thrilled her and she moaned. She surged forward and pulled backward and surged again, his long fingers pressing into her hips to steer her. Silently he rocked with her movements, watching her face keenly, kneading her breast, filling her and receding and filling her again.

After a time, she saw his eyes glaze over, his lips part. His intense focus drifted away from her, turning inward. With strong and steady strokes she urged him on, calling his name, his first name, his real name. His head lolled against the seat back, his stomach muscles tensed and, as his hips pulsed into hers, she touched his pale throat to feel the silent explosion that engulfed his body.

She leaned forward to hold him against her, his mouth open and moist against her shoulder. She lightly kissed his forehead, his sharp cheekbones and his eyelids and felt him sigh in her arms.

Before they disengaged, Reese passed his hand over his eyes and then his mouth. He cleared his throat to speak, but Carter silenced him with another kiss, now a gentle welcoming embrace on the lips.

"Next time."

She smiled for the first time that evening.

"Yes." He kissed her damp hairline above her ear. "Next time."


End file.
